


Whoever Is Righteous Let Him Be Righteous Still

by hummingrightalong



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Brotherly Love, Dixon Brothers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Good Sibling Merle Dixon, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Rickyl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-20 09:38:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17020263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hummingrightalong/pseuds/hummingrightalong
Summary: The most important thing for Merle to take with him when the shit hit the fan was not what anyone who knew him would expect.OrOne of the very few times Merle got the big brother thing right(Rating for mentions of child abuse)





	1. Chapter 1

Daryl had had taken him there, to the prison, so it was only right he be collecting him when his sentence was over.

Thing was, Merle’s sentence shouldn’t be over. Not for years. Probably not even if he were capable of good behavior should his time in the pen be up...but Merle wouldn’t be Merle if he didn’t find a way to fuck up his day every once in a while. And boy, had he fucked up good this time, but big brother had always said he’d be there for him and if he were to believe his ranting, that was exactly what he was doing on that rooftop. In his own way, Daryl supposed it must make sense to him - he was always running away from something or someone to take care of his little brother...even Daryl himself.

The younger Dixon wasn’t foolish enough to not know that a huge part of this was not wanting to rot away, to not have to pal around with the only gang (glorified clique of dicks, ha asshole) that’d take him. And Merle was sure not about to be taken out by the chopper and the few pigs that were screaming for him to come down peacefully. 

It wasn’t like he was trying to loot the place; oddly enough the further he’d gotten out of the mountains after an officer found him out there and begged for his help, the stranger the nice people of the more populated areas had begun to act like...well, the crazy mountain type he’d always been stereotyped as.

Merle never helped that reputation much. Not with all the stints in juvie, the drugs, getting kicked out of the military (the one time he almost went actually on the straight and narrow path) for punching out a superior officer. 

As soon as the eldest of the surviving Dixons sees his little brother, he puts his weapon down; a few leaps, a short scramble to the ground and he’s kicking his bike into gear, hollering for baby brother to follow him.

They’re turned around and headed North again for a few miles before Daryl pulls over. When his brother looks back to find himself traveling, not alone for all the traffic, but without Daryl in sight, he backs up to find him parked on the shoulder looking pissed off.

It takes quite a bit of convincing, of *promising* baby brother that he’s not headed to his (GANG) motorcycle club HQ, and wants to go straight home. He’s not as easy to sweet talk as almost everyone else is, somehow, for Merle. 

The Dixons all had one gift, thank the lord, that got them through life. It just rarely worked on one another. Daryl could probably do it himself if he’d just give it a try. Merle wouldn’t ever tell him that he’s capable of that, without even opening his mouth. Bad play to give the kid too much confidence. That shift of power, especially at the moment would be bad for the much older brother.

Daryl has to agree, if that’s the case, that it’s a good idea. He has some survival gear he doesn’t have packed on his motorcycle he could use, some spare bolts and a second crossbow.

Something was going down. Either way, he’d just aided and abetted (when would he learn to resist?) a criminal so they were sort of on the run now. He’d been picked up before but never committed an actual federal offense. oh well, was bound to happen one way or another. This fucking family...

The broken down wreck that used to be their home - still sometimes was when either needed a place to lay low - was as familiar as the day both left it. 

With more than a decade’s life experience on his baby brother, Merle should know what he’s doing when they toss the house for supplies. But he goes straight to one cabinet in the back of the house, shoving a bunch of folders and boxes into a duffel before he even grabs his stash- which Daryl had already collected for the valuable (hopefully legally obtained?? but who the fuck is counting now...) antibiotics and painkillers- or more weapons.

The younger of the two was fully loaded with camping gear and non-perishable foodstuffs, medicines, and a few maps (mostly for Merle, who’s abilities to survive outdoors were slightly exaggerated if left alone). Also armed with the knowledge to catch anything, cure most ills, and self sustain for an as-yet-to-be-determined amount of time, the younger man is ready to go while his big brother is still looking for something.

Daryl has already been shooing off a neighbor acting very strangely; even pushing her over a ravine does little. He’s a bit horrified, honestly, as she scrambles back up with a twisted arm and an ankle broken nearly completely off.

“There’s some shit going DOWN out here, Merle. Move your ass!”

“I know. I know. I meant to tell ya- some strange shit went down at the prison. Had to be the one to find you and tell you first.” 

“Couldn’t pick up a phone?”

“Like I can get ahold of you in the damn woods. Why you think I kicked up such a fuss. Knew they’d drag ya out, make ya come deal with me...didn’t want you out there with those things.” 

As they’re arguing, the neighbor, who had lived miles away and they’d seen twice in all the years she and her family had lived (what counted as) nearby the Dixon residence, raises her filthy arms and reaches for Daryl. Her mouth is agape and just as she leans in the tracker hears a *snap*, the tell-tale sound of a bullet whizzing past your ear and the body drops, down for good, dead on the ground beside him.

Merle doesn’t say anything about being the one to save the day for once, and Daryl barely acknowledges it. He nods but Merle gathers him up and hugs him tight - far more affection than this family is ever known for or daryl himself is usually comfortable with but he lets it happen cause, that was some fucked up shit and he kinda wants his brother to do his job for once and be the responsible one.

Merle takes his face in both hands, looks him in the eyes, seeming more sober than he has in years, “We'll be ok little brother. We just gotta stick together...I'm gonna do right by you.” Another nod and then they’re off.

***

It had taken the youngest Dixon a long damn time to find out what Merle had thought was so important to retrieve, and when he realized it was mostly photo albums he was understandably pissed off. Merle shrugged it off and never once shared them with him. Just insisted it was important and that was the end of the story.

***

When Merle had been brought back to the prison, taking a few days to watch the life that his baby brother had built for himself, he caught the one thing Daryl wasn’t exactly hiding- but not sharing either.

“Officer friendly...you and my brother,” the ex gang banger said in his lazy, gravely drawl. “You’re all up in him. I can practically smell ya on him.” Rick wrinkles his nose at the comment and the feeling of the big asshole leaning in close and sniffing hard behind his ear. He’d crept up on him. Not something the former officer was proud of.

“So. What of it.” When the chips are down, double down. Seemed to be Rick’s motto that year. “You have a problem with that I suppose. Your brother is what he is, we are what we are and that ain’t *any* of your damn business. And if (I’d be surprised if you did but) you’re about to give me the ‘shovel talk’ save your breath. By the way, smelling me like that. The way you went about that was- telling.”

“I’ll admit, this FUCKING family. But I ain’t like my daddy.” Rick tenses, forces himself to relax before the crazy eyes set in. “Nah, man. I was going to say...I suppose I approve. Now, I could tell ya what I’m going to do to you if you ever hurt him. Honestly I’ve been waiting years for him to find something he was interested in so I could do just that. I’ve always known my brother wasn’t into the ladies, and despite our mean ole daddy, I was fine with that. Always thought he was the one that’d make something of himself. And I trust his judgement well enough. Now...I think you should have these cause someone ought to hold onto them. Look at that. Sometimes the little shit even seems to smile. Don’t he?” 

Merle handed over a stack of weathered photos. A small blond child, a pissed off teen with a black eye, even a few of Daryl when he must’ve been in his 20s or so. One or two he was even dressed up and freshly washed, hair cut. “Dang.”

“Ha. Yeah. That one there was my wedding. Little fucker bet me I wouldn’t make it the day.”

“And?”

 

“Lost 100 bucks that night.”

***

Later, when Merle’s gone, when Rick is alone and flipping through the photos he’s a little saddened to see how often the kid looked beat up and just plain miserable. But whatever ‘officer friendly’ thought of the older Dixon, Daryl always seemed to be closest to (once even full on) smiling when they were together.


	2. Whoever Is Unjust Let Him Be Unjust Still

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Early days of the infection; Merle and Daryl continue getting by and Daryl makes a sacrifice.

The highways were clogged, but easy enough to maneuver with their motorcycles. As the brothers got close to the safety zones the government had been talking about in Atlanta, things got worse, not better. Safety zones...bullshit. as Daryl passes his brother, they share a knowing look. It won't take long for hell to break loose. Damn government never could get anything right more than they could mind their own damn business.

And then it starts to get even worse, even faster than they knew it would...

Another overturned car on the road shoulder, another emergency vehicle crashing into traffic. The open windows of the cars waiting for traffic to move occasionally have a stench that carries even when you’re whizzing by them, and a faint unnerving hum can be heard louder and louder the slower shit moves. 

Finally, Merle stops just ahead of his brother. When Daryl rolls up beside him they both look off the road at a sign for one of those tourist trap hotels, a faux lodge sort of deal at one of those interstate rest stops. It’ll have just a few rooms, and even if the worst has happened they’ll be able to clear it out and clean it out. 

Daryl isn’t quite sure why/what they even need to stock up on, as the older Dixon insists, but he’s been a little edgy himself since the first person (?) had attacked him back at their place and big brother had done what he had to. Remembering that, and noting that Merle seems more sober than he’s been in a while- even the last few days on the road- he takes his word and follows him through the off-ramp. 

It’s just as jammed but they make it to the lodge. 

Inside is as bad or worse as imagined but it doesn’t take the two skilled wild game hunters long enough to push their way through; make the tough calls and put an arrow into what looks mostly like people but clearly isn’t.

Less than half a dozen rooms to check, and a few staff members to eliminate or avoid, and they’re both exhausted. The don’t hear a peep from inside the last room at the end of the hall, decide to play nice and call out for help, banging on the door. Merle was just about to bust it open or shoot at the lock, but Daryl silences him. They hear the creak of footsteps approaching. Surprisingly, a pleasant enough looking guy opens the door a crack. He looks them up and down as they hear a woman’s voice begging her husband not to open it. She sounds a bit hysterical. 

Merle tries the charm, and Daryl can see the glint in his eye when the thought of violence sets in. He’s sick of this shit and attempts a softer approach. They’re both bloody and it’s impossible to tell whose it could be, so he holds one arm tight to his body and breathes weakly as he pleads with the man.

“We just need some first aid and a place to rest for the night. Please.”

“Godddamn it…” The man sighs and looks behind him, presumably at his wife who is still not happy that he hasn’t shut the door in the strangers’ faces. He sighs heavily again and looks apologetic at a (possibly?) wounded Daryl and an aggravated Merle who gets the clue just in time when he asks to pretty please help his baby brother in his most charming tone. “I’m no medic. I am no doctor fellas, but I did take a couple first aid classes a while back. Maybe I can help?”

“Well that’s just the right thing to do then,” Merle says. As they’re ushered in finally, Daryl stomps on the toe of his brother’s boot. The older man muffles a pained response and smiles as genuinely as he ever has for a stranger he’s definitely already planning to rob blind. “What I mean is, thanks so much for takin’ a look at my baby brother. It’s hell out there, not sure exactly what happened to him. He’s been playin’ it tough but I know he’s hurting and I have no fucking clue how to help him.” When he sees the man’s wife, who to him must be attractive enough to sidle up and apologise for his terrible mouth, he motions for Daryl to follow the man’s lead into the bathroom.

Daryl assumes that Merle thinks he’s going to do what he’d do...something stupid. But Daryl had noticed something *else* about the way their host had looked at him especially through the crack in the door. Something in his eyes he’d seen more than enough times in the past. He wasn’t even subtle - jackass - and Daryl wants to roll his eyes but doesn’t. something clicks in his brain and he’s already going through the motions before he knows it.

He tilts his head down, looks up at the man through his hair, flicks his eyes quickly back to the floor. He’s got a shiner, knows in an instant the man in his slacks and button down shirt must assume/hope (?) that Merle is maybe the big bad wolf and he can play huntsman for a while. His fucking wife is just on the other side of the door...but Daryl’s mind is somewhere else, where this shit doesn’t touch him. 

He’s sitting on the edge of the tub, the man crouched in front of him, half-assedly tending to the cut on his arm. He’s far too distracted, Daryl knows. This is too easy he thinks just as the man brushes his fingers over the bruise on his cheek. His face is close to Daryl’s - too close - but he pushes the thought back as the man says in a hushed tone, “I’ll make him leave, if you want.”  
Bingo. White collar hero/ closet case wants to go slumming it with the trailer trash hard case...his lips brush against Daryl’s, tentatively, like he’s trying to be gentle, cautious as anyone should approach a wounded animal.

But then his true colors are plain as day and his fingers are fisted tightly in daryl’s hair, tongue down his throat. He lets it continue a moment, then pushes the man back but smiles sweetly as he knows how. “not now...your wife is just on the other side of the door.”

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

“No no. Let my brother distract her. I really appreciate your help. I’ll make it worth your while.” The guy is out the door before he could have even possibly given a thought to leaving his own wife alone with someone he allowed himself to assume was such a monster.

Daryl assumes whatever the man says goes over well, because he hears his brother speak loudly, alerting him in their way where he’d be and how long he’d probably wait before coming back to check. Merle probably assumed Daryl just wanted to separate them, make it easier, and that was true in a way. 

They were holding some pretty sweet supplies in here, looked like the sort that always had it nice but probably weren’t so nice. Daryl flicks that switch again in his mind the second he hears the outside door click shut. 

He keeps that head down, puppy dog eyes up and enthralled in every word the married man as to say as he leads him to the bedroom. Pushing him down on the bed, yanking his tie (christ…) loose, he jumps into his lap. “Now I can thank you. And we can get outta here right? You’ll help me?”

“Of course.” Dumbass is already kissing the tattoo on Daryl’s neck. X marks the spot (*his* spot, the only one, he's never really cared about sex and not just ‘cause of the experience he's had…) - and it helps the younger man a bit from rolling his eyes when this single-minded prick pulls a pair of handcuffs out of a duffel bag at the end of the bag. Oh yeah, he didn’t feel the least bit guilty about playing this. Not if it was this easy. Not if this was the direction mr. white collar button down hero is taking. He wasn’t exactly ‘helping’ Daryl now was he? At least not at the moment.

It was their new friend that needed help when he was down to his boxers and lying back on the bed. He’d forgotten the handcuffs as Daryl helped him undress; there they were, lying on the bed, the key likely still in the duffel bag.

***

That’s how Merle and Mrs. Hero find the guy, in nothing but his boxers handcuffed to the bed and Daryl looking a little more bruised than before.

Merle howls at the man in the bed, ready to kill him, “what have you done to my brother!” He’s reaching for a gun when the woman standing in the doorway speaks up. 

“Leave him. We have plenty of supplies. I had no idea he was- well, fuck him. Take me with you and let me make up for it.”

Daryl bites down on his thumb and turns his head to hide his smirk. well, that was a twist. 

***

Maybe Merle had gotten to her, maybe he hadn’t, but it’s funny how even in the apocalypse there’s one sin that’s always unforgivable. The Mrs. certainly doesn’t forgive her husband and later that night when they take to the woods on Daryl’s suggestion she takes Merle out alone after they think Daryl is asleep in his sleeping bag under their makeshift shelter. 

***

“What happened to her?” Rick can’t help himself. It’s just a few days after Daryl had talked his boyfriend off the ultimate ledge, told him all his old family secrets, and brought him back from the brink.

“Well, he musta not liked that camping spot ‘cause a few mornings later he woke me up real early- all packed and her sleeping like an angel.”

“You know, you really do tell the most terrible stories.”

“Shut up. I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the credit of this chapter goes to lflssfrghtnng.tumblr.com


End file.
